


Wrong place right time

by LunarC



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Comedy, Daryl is not the one with the Daddy kink, First Time, Jesus is not as confident as he seems, Jesus' pov, Light Fic, M/M, NSFW, Pining, Rick can't have everything, Rick is jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6395992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarC/pseuds/LunarC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesus accidentally stumbles upon Daryl and his group leader getting secretly intimate. The whole affair is mortifying and sets off a chain of events which lead Jesus to looking at Daryl in a whole new light...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong place right time

**Author's Note:**

> A light fic I wrote to let off some steam.  
> Tried writing from Jesus' point of view. Though I know almost nothing about him. 
> 
> Either way.   
> I hope you enjoy!  
> Thank you!

Jesus didn’t mean to spy. It honestly wasn’t his intention. He really had been going for a walk when he heard noises, bumps, groans. 

It was only normal that you investigate something like that. In case of walkers. In case of a break in and if he happened to be unusually quiet then that was just a side effect of his training.

But when he saw what he saw he honestly wished he might have been just a little bit louder. 

Because Jesus really hadn’t been planning to catch Daryl ‘Not this guy’ Dixon and Rick ‘The killer’ Grimes getting intimate down the back of some house.

He slid into the shadow without meaning to. So surprised he couldn’t look away. He’d thought the pair had good chemistry, they worked as a unit and seemed to follow one another without having to speak but he had never thought…

“I want to hear it,” Rick’s voice whispered and Jesus actually covered his mouth to stop from gasping. He couldn’t move now or they’d hear him, see him. He had gotten closer than he’d meant to. He dropped to his knees, smaller target, harder to see and pressed his back to the wall. A few paces down Rick Grimes had Daryl pinned to the same wall. 

Hips thrusting. Panting. In full swing.

“Give it to me-“ Daryl gasped and Jesus closed his eyes. Because this was too much. He’d overheard some weird shit in the apocalypse but he absolutely did not need to hear this. “Please-“ Daryl went on to beg.

Their pace was ruthless. Jesus couldn’t help but notice. He was, after all, experienced in this area. 

And maybe Jesus was missing something but Rick seemed to be-well-punishing the other.

Something happened and there was a firm ‘slap’ of a sound. Jesus bit his fingers to stop from gasping, moment so awkward he felt delirious. Face red. 

“What did I tell you?” Rick grunted and there was another smacking sound. 

A whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl whispered, voice hoarse.

“Sorry who?”

“… Daddy.” Daryl honest to god breathed.

Jesus went so red he could almost feel his skin burning.

Luckily he seemed to have come in at the tail end of the activities for the night although it did mean that he now knew what Rick Grimes sounded like when he came. Something Jesus might have done without. 

He didn’t hear Daryl come, which was a shame. For more reason than one.

There was another slap, the sounds of lips meeting once and then clothes being rearranged. Jesus shrank back even further into the shadows. Confused by the lack of speaking after their meet up. 

Rick had never struck him as the type to… Well… Fuck and go. He was with that sword girl, wasn’t he?

Mind you Daryl had never struck Jesus as someone who might enjoy being pounded in the dark by his leader so he was clearly no expert.

Rick passed his hiding space a few minutes later without so much as a glance in his direction. Daryl took longer to sort himself out. Jesus wasn’t surprised. Rick had just rammed the fuck out of him. A little care after might have been nice.

Jesus refused to let himself feel sorry for Daryl. He might like it like that. Might be his thing or whatever.

… Daddy.

Man.

That was gonna stick.

Daryl actually limped on the way past. Like literally. Jesus hadn’t stared hard enough to get a glimpse of Rick’s talent but from that gait… Jesus.

Jesus finally let himself get up, knees cramping and quietly left the shadows where he’d been hiding, walking back out onto the street. He was resolving to never revisit this memory ever again when he stepped out onto the board walk and turned left.

Daryl Dixon looked right back at him standing a few feet down the path, cigarette just lit and hanging, limply, from his mouth. 

They stared at one another.

There was no way to deny that Jesus had been-at least in the vicinity-of what has just transpired. He swallowed and Daryl did the same.

“… Nice out.” Jesus said finally. 

“… Warm enough.” Daryl replied.

Jesus nodded. Was this how they were going to play it? Like Jesus had never seen? He could do that, denial was a powerful tool.

“… How long you back there?” Daryl asked.

No. Denial was not the Dixon way, apparently.

“… A while.” Jesus replied. “Thought I heard walkers, groaning.” He added, because he didn’t just follow around people trying to covertly fuck each other. That wasn’t his thing.

Daryl went red, even in the low light it was easy to see. He took a deep puff of his cigarette and exhaled. Jesus had good eyes and he paid attention so he could see the man’s hand shaking.

“Oh.” Daryl said.

Jesus nodded.

“Yeah.”

Jesus wondered when the threats would start. Daryl and Rick were clearly not a public thing or they wouldn’t be having sex in the dark behind vacant houses and as far as he could tell the love affair between the samurai and the leader was fairly recent-but the group knew.

Why did he always get caught up in these things?

“… I’d appreciate if you uh…” Daryl gestured vaguely with his smoke, glancing over at Jesus but unable to hold his gaze. “If this wasn’t-It’s not.”

“It’s alright.” Jesus said and Daryl turned to him, his whole body still. Like he was completely focused on Jesus’ reply. “I get it. I won’t tell.”

Daryl stared at him, like he was trying to work out if he was lying. It was no secret that Daryl didn’t trust Jesus. Even if Jesus had done his best to be friendly from the start. Daryl Dixon struck him as the kind of guy it took time to win over and that was alright. He seemed like a valuable ally. 

And if he liked dudes well… 

At least they had something in common.

“… Thank you.” Daryl replied with as much dignity as he seemed able.

“It’s fine.” Jesus said and they both looked out into the street. Moment incredibly awkward but neither able to walk away.

“… I gotta ask though,” Jesus finally said, curiosity burning him. Daryl looked over at him. “… How long? Because I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed it, you know?” 

Daryl dropped his smoke to the side walk and crushed it under his shoe. Jesus could tell he’d said something wrong by the set of the other’s shoulder. 

“Long enough.” Daryl replied and then walked away, leaving Jesus standing on a street corner in Alexandria, alone, with a set of memories he had never signed up for. 

\---

Daryl told Rick.

Jesus knew because the next time he saw Rick the man gave him this look. Which said very clearly ‘I know where you sleep’ without having to utter a word. Message received. Jesus thought. Loud and clear.

He didn’t go back to Alexandria for a few weeks. He and Maggie Greene became the go-betweens for the two groups and he had his own problems to deal with back at Hilltop as well as the ever looming threat of Negan which had both colonies looking over their shoulders.

But the night stayed with Jesus. Maybe he was frustrated, he hadn’t gotten laid in a long time or maybe it was because he kind of had a little thing for Daryl (brooding, mysterious types) but he couldn’t get the scene out of his head.

It invaded his thoughts, his private time, he wondered how long was ‘long enough’? If Daryl was happy, if maybe-he could make him happier? He could be rough, if that’s what he liked, but Daryl didn’t actually strike him as the type that would like it like that. It seemed more Rick’s thing.

He was definitely getting way too involved. It was none of his business and the pair worked well together. He wasn’t going to move in on that. He’d probably get killed.

And if he thought about Daryl’s quiet moans one more time he was going to chain his hands behind his back to stop himself from getting off on it.

It all became a little too much when Rick and Daryl came to Hilltop to pick up supplies. He greeted them, of course, as the ambassador for his group and the second they appeared he knew something had changed.

Rick wasn’t looking at Daryl, was barely looking at Jesus either. Every angle of his body seemed strung tight. Ready to go off. Jesus trod carefully and Daryl nodded at him. 

Trouble in paradise. Jesus thought.

He helped them load the supplies into their pick up. It was hard work and by the end of it he’d gone up to the house and got them all water to drink. Rick took his with a nod and Daryl muttered a quiet thanks. Both draining them quickly.

Jesus couldn’t help it, he watched Daryl, pulled his hand back where their fingers had brushed and pressed it to his chest, worrying his lips for a second and entertaining the dumb, split second fantasy of what it would be like to kiss the grizzly man with his mouth wet. Real sweetly. If maybe that’d be too much for him. If he had to have it rough. 

Jesus realised what he was doing a second too late and glanced at Rick who was watching Jesus, so intensely Jesus almost shuddered. 

Jesus’ heart skipped when Rick’s jaw twitched, like he was holding down some prime impulse to knock Jesus right on his ass. He’d seen Rick fight when he meant it. He knew he’d come out of it with scars that would last.

He looked back at Daryl who hadn’t even noticed the moment, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist and looking out over the horizon.

“Looks like rain.” Daryl said.

“Storm comin’.” Rick said, not looking away from Jesus who was staring right back at him.

“Looks like.” Jesus replied.

What had he got himself into?

\---

The next time he got involved it was really not his fault. He was in the bathroom, shaving (maintaining) his beard when he heard the front door slam open and angry foot steps climbing the stairs. 

He was staying in Alexandria in a vacant house, set aside for him and… Well, prisoners most likely and hadn’t expected anyone to come storming in. He quickly washed the shaving cream from his face and tip toed to the doorway, gently pushing it open. Pre-empting a fight. 

What he hadn’t been expecting was Daryl Dixon to fly past him on the top of the stairs and go straight into his room. 

He watched and listened as the foot steps stopped completely and then silence followed. A few minutes later Daryl backed out into the hall, looking around.

Jesus held up a hand in a wave, still holding his razor when Daryl locked eyes on him.

“Hi.” He said. He was in his sleeping clothes. Dressed down but luckily not shirtless. That would have been far too cliché. 

Daryl swallowed in the low light cast from the bathroom. 

“Sorry.” Daryl said. “I usually-I’ll go.” He turned and made for the stairs but Jesus followed him.

“No-hey-it’s alright.” Jesus said. Shouldn’t have, but did. Daryl stopped on the stair. Turning to look up at him. He was so good looking, tired, haunted, but there was something very appealing about him. Jesus should know-he’d watched him a lot. “… Are you ok?”

“… I usually sleep here when-” Daryl’s jaw set hard and his hands balled into fists.

Jesus watched him from the top of the landing then made a very stupid, very impulsive decision.

“You still could, if you wanted?” He offered.

Daryl looked up at him and Jesus did his best to hold his gaze even though he wanted to drop it. Take it back. He didn’t need to be a part of the mess between Rick and Daryl. He would only make it worse.

But then he had never been looked at this long by Daryl Dixon, could almost tell the colour of his eyes, if it weren’t so dark.

Daryl seemed confused at first and then surprised, then hesitant. Like he didn’t know what to do. 

Something told Jesus this wasn’t how Daryl was used to being courted.

“… The bed’s big.” He said, stupidly. “And cold, honestly, very cold.” 

Daryl stared up at him still and then actually chuckled. A sound Jesus had only heard him make once before when Rick had made some joke he hadn’t been able to hear.

He was pretty happy that he could make Daryl do that too.

“That your go-to line?” Daryl asked, voice quiet. 

Jesus felt like he was walking some thin line, something he could very easily ruin, but leant against the balustrade, trying to cover up any nerves.

“Depends, is it working?” He asked, boldly. Never let it be said he didn’t give it 100%.

Daryl seemed to think on that. One hand on the stair railing. Fingers tapping against it nervously. 

“… Because, frankly, my lines don’t often work.” Jesus said suddenly. Going with honesty over bravado here. Daryl looked up. “Really it is kind of cold and uh. I would like you to stay. If you wanted.”

Daryl just kept on staring, glancing between Jesus, the front door and the bedroom. Jesus wondered if maybe Daryl really didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hadn’t meant to hold his escape room to ransom.

“… Or I could sleep on the couch-“ Jesus went on.

“No.” Daryl said suddenly. Seeming to come to a decision. He climbed the stairs resolutely and stalked past Jesus, glancing into his eyes on the way past, brushing by close enough that Jesus could smell him. He walked into Jesus’ bedroom and cast a look over his shoulder. 

“… Comin?” He asked.

Jesus blinked, then grinned.

“Gladly.” He said.

\---

Making love to Daryl Dixon was nothing like Jesus had pictured. That is he had always fantasized that Daryl would be either meek and shy or dominating and rough. He hadn’t imagined the grey in between, the complex person he would actually have to deal with. 

Daryl wasn’t shy about taking a hold of Jesus’ hips and grinding into them before they even got into bed. He didn’t flinch when he dropped to his knees in front of Jesus and mouthed him through his clothes (an image Jesus wanted printed into his retinas along with heady arousal that came with it). 

Daryl was even pretty good at giving head, which Jesus had definitely not pictured, since he struck Jesus as a typical closet case. Someone who didn’t ‘see the light’ until the world fell apart. So either Daryl had more experience than he was letting on or Rick had been thorough in his training.

Jesus did his best not to think about Rick at all when he pulled Daryl off him, about to come down the other’s throat and not ready for this to be over with.

“Come here,” He said and pulled Daryl up, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

Daryl flinched, like he hadn’t expected it. Jesus paused. Both of his hands laced around the other’s shoulders, standing right next to the bed. 

“… Kissing not good?” He asked. Because he wanted to know, he sort of wouldn’t mind a repeat of this and wanted it to be something worth coming back to for Daryl. He wanted to make love to him-not fuck him. Rick seemed good at that but it wasn’t Jesus’ forte.

Daryl shook his head, like he hadn’t meant to flinch and leant forward, pressing their lips together roughly. He grabbed Jesus around the waist (he had arms FOR DAYS) and pulled him back on top of him and onto the bed. 

Jesus laughed but Daryl didn’t, kept biting him, pulling at his lips like he was going to rip them off. Jesus put a hand to the middle of his chest and leant back, out of mauling distance.

“Hey, hey, slow down…” Jesus said and Daryl looked up at him, panting and looking, frankly, half way between horny and frightened. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Jesus smiled at him and leant down. Pressing their lips together sweetly, tenderly. Like he’d dreamed about doing (it was one time, shut up). 

Daryl didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands so Jesus took them and guided them to his ass, because he wanted some more of the grinding from earlier. He started them, languid and slow, rolling his hips into Daryl’s.

Daryl’s confusion slowly wore off and he kneaded his rump, rubbing and matching Jesus’ tempo. He even grabbed a fist full of Jesus’ hair and squeezed. Jesus moaned and chuckled.

“Yeah, baby.” He whispered and Daryl sucked in a deep, stuttering, breath. Jesus kept kissing him, stealing his breath and Daryl’s hips began to jump, his hardness pressed firmly against Jesus’ hip. 

“What do you want?” Jesus asked. Because he’d take anything. Literally. He was versatile, top, bottom, sideways, didn’t matter. He liked all of it and figured Daryl might like to be off the receiving end after the way he’d been limping a few weeks back.

He waited, but Daryl didn’t reply and Jesus looked up at his face.

His mouth was half open, like he wanted to say something but nothing was coming out. 

I’ve broken him. Jesus thought. I’ve broken Daryl Dixon.

“… We could just keep doing this.” Jesus suggested, but reached between them slid his hand down the front of Daryl’s pants, rolling his palm over the head of him. 

Daryl sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, releasing Jesus’ hair to cover his face.

“Stop it.” He said suddenly and Jesus stopped, eyes a little wide. He hadn’t fucked up that badly had he-but Daryl continued. “Stop babyin’ me.”

Jesus frowned, but started up with his hand again, rubbing the other in his jeans. Daryl’s whole face was red, flushed, even as he tried to cover it. Jesus pulled his hands away.

“I’m not ‘babying’ you.” Jesus said and kissed his lips again. Daryl moaned. “I’m giving you a choice.”

“Don’t matter.” Daryl gasped. “I’ll come either way.”

“That’s not really as fun though, is it?” Jesus said, smirking when Daryl dropped his hands from his eyes to watch as Jesus half rolled off him and unbuttoned his jeans expertly and took Daryl in hand. Daryl’s eyes darted between Jesus’ face and his hands. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look. He was flushed all the way to his chest and his hips jumped as Jesus pumped him slowly.

“Oh.” Daryl gasped, but didn’t say anything more, keeping his mouth pressed tightly closed. Jesus liked a challenge though. He drew it out, taking his hand and licking his palm, getting it slick and then wrapping it back around Daryl. Daryl’s head dropped back to the mattress and he let out huffy, quiet, breaths.

“So quiet.” Jesus said, he kissed the corner of Daryl’s mouth and Daryl’s hips jumped. “You don’t have to be. No one can hear…”

Daryl shook his head though and Jesus just shrugged and kept working him. 

Daryl fell apart. 

His hips jumped, his heels dug into the mattress and pushed outward. He grabbed Jesus’ arm with one hand and squeezed. Exhaling and inhaling deeply through his mouth but making no sound. 

Jesus grinned and kissed him, his neck, behind his ear. He was pressing a gentle bite into the man’s collar bone when he suddenly pushed his hand away and shook his head, pressing his mouth into Jesus’ shoulder. 

“W-wait-wait.” Daryl whispered, hips still jumping. Hyper sensitive.

Jesus waited, kissing the other man’s neck and running his hands up and down his ribs. Too prominent, Jesus ignored it. 

“You have to-“ Daryl inhaled deeply, “Now-I won’t be able to stop myself-“

“What are you talking about?” Jesus asked, heady just from watching Daryl trying his best not to come. 

Daryl let out a raggedly exhaled breath. 

“You have to fuck me now or I won’t-I can’t-“ Daryl stuttered. 

Jesus watched the other, could see how desperately he was trying to stay hard and stop himself from coming. Thought about how nice it would be to sink into Daryl, fuck him tenderly, drag it out. Make him cry out on the bed and then sleep in it. 

But it wasn’t his only option. 

“… I want to try something else.” Jesus said and Daryl drew back, staring at him.

Jesus crawled down the bed and moved Daryl, so he was settled between his legs. He pulled him out of his jeans (commando, interesting) and his shoes then hitched Daryl’s shirt up under his arm pits. Grazing his hands over the man’s torso, his stomach. Daryl stared up at him, through half closed eyes, hypnotised. Jesus smiled down at him and threw off his own shirt and lost his shorts, butt naked in front of the other for the first time. 

He would have felt self conscious if Daryl hadn’t hooked his ankles around his thighs and pulled him closer, licking his lips like he was looking at something good to eat. 

They kissed, once, twice, then Jesus asked the other to turn around. Daryl did so, gripped the pillow in front of him. Jesus pulled him back until he was on his knees, then spat into his hand.

Daryl seemed to square up, preparing himself. But Jesus didn’t enter him, didn’t think their first night together was the best time to try that. Instead he coated his own cock until he was wet and then draped himself across Daryl’s back. Reaching around and taking his length in hand.

He leant forward and pressed his cock between the man’s legs beneath him, then guided them closed.

“Stay like that.” Jesus said and kissed the other behind his ear. Daryl just nodded, swallowing roughly.

Jesus rubbed him, then rolled his hips forward, thrusting into the cage of Daryl’s thighs. Dick grazing the underside of Daryl’s balls.

Daryl jumped but Jesus didn’t stop, just kept twisting him in his hand and thrusting between his thighs. He could hear every breath Daryl took, his lips and teeth dancing across the skin of his shoulder.

“You smell so good,” Jesus said and Daryl just grunted in reply. “I think about you, when I’m at Hilltop. I didn’t think it’d be like this, though.” He confessed, kissing Daryl’s neck in between words. “This is better.”

Daryl groaned, a needy, affected sound. One of the first he’d made since they began.

“You think-you think ‘bout me?” He whispered and Jesus increased the thrust of his hips, the friction wonderful, a promise of something better to come. 

“A lot-too much,” Jesus babbled. He’d always been a talker during sex, some people didn’t like it and he toned it down. But Daryl seemed to like it, if his quiet little moans were any indication. “I think about you all the time, when you’re there I can’t stop looking. I wanted you to stay. Even when you didn’t like me I was watching you-even before-that night.”

Daryl fell onto his forearms but Jesus’ didn’t let up, kept jerking him, increasing the speed of it to match his thrusts. He was so so close. 

“I thought about the sounds you made. I like them, I like when you moan-like that-just like that.” Jesus gasped as Daryl huffed out a moan, tried to press his face into the pillow to smother them, Jesus gripped his jaw and tilted his head up. “Don’t, don’t, come on. It’s alright.”

“Don’t wanna-too loud-“

“Not true,” Jesus whispered, turning his head slightly and kissing his jaw. “Perfect.”

Daryl came like he didn’t know what to do. His mouth opened and his back arched and began silently before he dissolved into several ‘oh, oh’s, fuck, oh,’ his hips jumping, body shaking. Jesus bit into his shoulder and thrust frantically, knocking the other man forward and rubbing himself against Daryl’s ass. 

He grabbed Daryl’s hand where it was fisted in the blanket at his shoulder and laced their fingers together. 

“Talk to me-please-“ Jesus begged and Daryl turned, letting out a content sigh.

“I think about you too,” Daryl murmured and Jesus moaned, rutting furiously through his orgasm, one hand squeezing Daryl’s and the other scratching markings into Daryl’s stomach and holding him as he rode it out, loud and vocal spouting profanities he really should keep out of the bedroom. 

Daryl was good about it though and didn’t seem angry when he came all across his ass. 

He even stayed the night, massive plus. Though Daryl was apparently not used to spooning. If his disgruntled look when Jesus grabbed his arms and wrapped them tightly around his waist before falling asleep meant anything. 

But when Jesus woke he was still there, awake and watching him. Jesus smiled and Daryl stared back.

“… I gotta go.” Daryl said, face hard to read in the early morning light and sure, Jesus had kind of been expecting this part. The part where Daryl left and never came back. Ran right back to Rick and left him feeling like the stupid home wrecker he was. He tried not to let it ruin the moment. They’d had fun, that was all that mattered, right?

You couldn’t get attached in a world like this… Right?

Right.

Stupid.

“…Yeah, okay.” Jesus said and Daryl disentangled himself from Jesus, sitting up and picking up his clothes. Jesus watched him getting dressed and held the blankets tighter to himself. Trying to memorise what Daryl looked like half naked, since he probably wouldn’t see it again.

Daryl got to the door without looking at Jesus, eyes plastered to the floor. Like he was unsure or ashamed or both. 

Why not both? Jesus tried to stop beating himself up. He started this, he could deal with the consequences. It wasn’t like it was his first rodeo. 

But Daryl did look over at him in the end and it was a strange look. Like he was torn up about leaving but also like he didn’t know what else to do. His eyes roamed over Jesus and Jesus suddenly wondered if maybe Daryl was having the exact same thoughts about him.

“… We leave for Hilltop in a few hours.”

“… Yeah.” Jesus replied.

“… I’ll see you there.” Daryl said and Jesus stared at him.

“… I’ll be there.” He replied, awkwardly.

Daryl nodded then left.

Jesus fell back into the pillows and rubbed his eyes, dropping his arms to the sheets that still reeked of sex and struggled to fall back asleep without those dumb arms holding him tight.

\---

If anyone suspected anything they kept it locked down tight. 

But Jesus was hyper aware of everything that Daryl did. It made him jumpy, stupid, his cheeks flushed on the daily. Infatuation was a bitch and he was its slave. 

He wondered, in his darker moments, if he should have been rougher. If maybe he’d confused the other-or not made his intentions clear enough. 

Maggie Greene however was not blind and she was the first one to bring it up. Jesus was making a list of crops they were sending to Alexandria and Daryl was loading things into the truck with Rick. Jesus kept looking up at him when he bent down to pick something up. Lifting with his knees, thighs flexing under his jeans.

He knew what those thighs looked like now. He dropped his gaze before he could get caught, frowning at himself. Stupid. Stop it. 

“… Someone’s got wandering eyes.” A deeply accented voice said over his shoulder and he turned, eyes wide at the smiling face of Maggie Greene. 

“… That’s not-“ Jesus shut his mouth and fought down a flush. Maggie stared at him, one hand on her hip. 

“… You’ve re-written that number 3 times now.” She said, pointing to where he’d almost worn a hole through the paper trying to count how many baskets of tomatoes the Alexandrians were taking.

Jesus bit his lip, looking down at it. Caught out.

“… Just having one of those days.” Jesus said with a casual smile. Maggie was watching him closely though with intelligent eyes and he doubted she would fall for it.

“… You should talk to him.” She said suddenly and Jesus frowned, staring at her like she was mad. Daryl wasn’t a big talker-and if he approached the hunter he might just flat out not reply-or Rick might sock him in the jaw-or both.

“Who, Daryl?” Jesus asked, playing dumb and keeping his eyes on his sheet of paper. Maggie snorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Daryl.” She said. “You know he didn’t have to come today, Glenn was supposed to. He volunteered.”

Jesus glanced up at her, then at Daryl, who was resting against the side of their car, taking a breather and looking good. Nothing new. Except Jesus noticed how his ear was inclined toward the pair of them, him and Maggie on the hill. Like he was trying to listen.

Ears burning? Jesus wondered.

“That so?” Jesus asked. It had been almost 2 weeks since he’d been at Alexandria and he had barely spoken to Daryl since then. Daryl didn’t really show him any special treatment, as far as he knew. Didn’t bring up what they’d done together or initiate anything more.

Jesus was definitely used to being the pursuer, especially in this world, but even his ego couldn’t work with nothing.

But maybe he just hadn’t been looking close enough.

“That it is.” Maggie replied, grinning and batting Jesus’ shoulder on the way past. Like she knew something more than she possibly could. She went down the hill to Daryl and gave him her water bottle. Daryl took it, drinking deeply and listened while she talked before glancing at Jesus.

Their eyes met and held. 

Oh. Jesus thought. Because Daryl’s stare burned his skin, the hunter’s skin flushed and he looked down, then back at Maggie, like he had never even looked in the first place.

Shy. Jesus thought suddenly. He’s shy. 

He dropped his clipped board to his side and walked over to the two of them, smiling confidently once Daryl looked up at him again.

“Hi.” Jesus said and Daryl’s gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. Maggie stared between them, smirking widely. 

“Hey.” Daryl replied.

We have contact.

\---

Daryl slept with his hunting knife under his pillow. Showers twice a week, maybe once, depending. Smokes at least twice a day and licks his fingers like there’s no tomorrow. 

Jesus saw him gut a squirrel the other day. Gross. Neat but gross.

He kills walkers with dangerous swiftness. Moves quietly, maybe even as quietly as Jesus does if he put his mind to it and gets a nasty mouth on him when he’s been drinking.

He has scars on his back, like lash marks, from his tail bone over his shoulders and angel tattoos printed right on top. Like guardians. 

Jesus is tracing one presently and Daryl shivers under the attention, waking up. It’s late, they’re in Alexandria again and Jesus managed to coax Daryl into shower number 1 for the week earlier that evening. He smells like soap and sweat. It’s a good mix.

“… What?” Daryl grumbles. Tucking his arm a little tighter under his pillow, probably checking his knife is still there. Ocd.

Jesus is behind him, because Daryl was a natural little spoon, he should have guessed earlier. 

“Just thinking.” Jesus said. 

“Can’t you do that without wakin’ me up?” Daryl mumbled. 

“Could, but it’s not as fun.” Jesus smirked and kissed the older man’s shoulder. Daryl hummed and relaxed a little more. 

“Mm… Alright. What?” He asked.

“… What’s going on with you and Rick?” Jesus asks. Because he couldn’t stop thinking about it and didn’t know how to say ‘It’s just you and me-right?’ without sounding like a clingy high schooler.

Daryl is very quiet, he shuffles a little uncomfortably, onto his back, so he can look at Jesus (as much as he can in the low light). 

“… What do you think?” He murmurs, betraying nothing.

“I think you two probably had a bad break up.” Jesus said, ignoring how defensive the other man got. “And I kind of want to know whether I should be expecting Rick to tie me up and leave me on a back road somewhere any day now.”

Daryl lay in the dark, quietly, while Jesus fingered the top of the blanket on top of him. 

“… It’s over.” Daryl said. “Shoulda been over sooner… With Michonne… Just… Didn’t realise it till we got caught.” 

“By me?” Jesus asked. 

Daryl hummed. “Yep. By you. Prick.” 

“You’re welcome.” Jesus said.

“Never thanked ya,” 

“Didn’t need to.” Jesus replied. 

Daryl grunted and reached out, finding Jesus’ head in the darkness and guiding their mouths together. Daryl never used to initiate kisses, was some kind of weird ‘thing’ for him but now he took them whenever he could. A total fiend for them among other things. Jesus included, apparently.

Jesus grinned, as Daryl licked a little deeper into his mouth. 

Who’d have thought.


End file.
